Copeland took a deep breath. “We’re at the Super Center, gonna be ready to move as soon as Dawson gets to work.”
“In the meantime, we’ll pull them our way,” Kowalski assured him.
“Heard,” the Sergeant replied. “Copeland out.” He put the radio away, crossing his arms as he watched his soldiers work. Come on Dawson, get it done.
CHAPTER FIVE
Corporal Dawson watched on as several members of his fifteen strong team stabbed and bashed in the skulls of a dozen zombies that had wandered out from a side street. It was the last one before the interstate, but the fourth major confrontation his squad had faced on the three-mile trek to the car dealership.
This worried him, because if they were encountering so much resistance on the residential streets, it not only made their job more difficult, but it made him wonder how bad the situation at the bridge was.
After the cleansing finished up, Privates Mack and Ross jogged back from the top of the road that intersected with the freeway.
“How are we looking up there?” Dawson asked.
Mack jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Flat across the interstate, should be easy to traverse.”
“Only about forty hostiles between here and there,” Moss added. “Really spread out, too.”
The Corporal nodded. “How’d the lot look?” he asked.
The Privates exchanged a look, concerning their superior.
“That good, huh?” Dawson asked.
“Couldn’t really get a great look at it, but…” Moss trailed off, scratching the back of his head.
Mack winced. “There was some movement.”
“Fantastic,” Dawson drawled. “Looks like it’s gonna be a long ass night.” He turned to two soldiers taking turns curb-stomping a zombie into the ground. “You boys done?” he asked dryly.
The soldiers straightened up and moved away, falling back into formation.
“Final push gentlemen,” the Corporal announced. “We got some light resistance on the interstate, and unknown hostiles on the lot. Mack, Moss, and myself make a beeline to the front door, and once you clear out the lot, you follow. Who has the night vision?”
One soldier with a rifle raised his hand in the back.
Dawson pointed to him. “I don’t care how you do it, just get on that roof and keep watch on the interstate,” he instructed. “I don’t care about stragglers, but if you see a horde, you start shooting.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied, nodding.
“Where are my mechanics?” Dawson asked.
Two soldiers off to the left raised their hands.
“You’re with me,” the Corporal said. “Until we get those car alarms modified, you stay back. Once we get that done, feel free to run into whatever shitshow you want to.”
“Yes sir,” they replied in unison, nodding.
Dawson appraised his team. “Then let’s move,” he said. “Hit teams, up front.”
Two squads of four moved to the front of the formation as the group jogged down the last stretch of road. Their blood-stained blades and bludgeons sparkled in the moonlight, ready for action.
As they got onto the frontage road, the hit squads leapt into action to take out a trio of zombies. One squad of four rushed up, with the leader using his bludgeon to drive a zombie back staggering into another one. They fell to the ground and two other soldiers made short work of their skulls.
The rest of the squad moved to the interstate, several groups of creatures scattered about the pavement. The hit squads attacked in unison and formation, stabbing and bludgeoning, expertly neutralizing the threads.
They reached the other side of the freeway, not concerned with the zombies that were half a mile down the road. When they got into the lot, the infestation was a lot thicker than originally anticipated.
Dawson stopped short at the edge, staring at the dozens of creatures moving through the cars.
“Poor fuckers must have wandered in there and couldn’t figure out how to get out,” Mack murmured.
Dawson sighed. “We’ll get ‘em out real quick,” he replied. “Hit teams, need a diversion on the flanks. Get that center cleared out for us.”
The two teams of four ran down the outer edges of the lot on either side. When in position, one member from each team got up on top of a vehicle and started making a racket, jumping and yelling and banging their weapons, while the other three stood in front, waiting on the enemy to arrive.
Dawson and the remainder of the squad watched as the zombies staggered off towards the hit teams. They bumped off of vehicles, knocking into each other, but one by one, they stepped up to just get smacked down by the soldiers.
As the fight went on, the center of the car lot emptied out.
“Let’s go,” Dawson hissed, and led his team down the lot. They moved quickly but quietly, staying low so the cars would provide cover. As they approached the front doors, the Corporal stopped at the sight of several zombies pressed up against the glass, banging on them.
He stepped up to the door and pushed lightly against it, noting that it opened inward. At the bottom, someone had put door stops down to hold the ghouls inside. He pulled out his flashlight and shone it into the building.
There were numerous show cars as well as cubicles set up, but very little in the way of zombies outside of those at the front door.
“Okay, Mack, Moss,” Dawson said, clicking off his light and turning to the soldiers. “I’m gonna get those door stops. From what I can see, it’s just these three that we have to worry about.”
They nodded and readied their blades. The Corporal crouched down in front of the doors, getting a good handle on the metal doorstops. He looked back to make sure they were ready, and when they nodded, he dove to the side, pulling the stops with him.
The trio of zombies burst out from the door, immediately going after Dawson who was closest to them. Mack lunged forward, plunging his blade into the side of the lead creature’s head, and immediately throwing it back into the others.
Moss slashed a decisive blow to the face of the other zombie, while Mack jumped over the one he killed and booted the chest of the last one struggling to get up. He slammed his blade down into its eye with a vicious kill shot.
Dawson peeled himself off of the ground, dusting himself off. “Those fuckers came at me like a fat kid at a buffet,” he grunted. “Appreciate the quick action.”
“If we’re gonna get promotions,” Mack said with a smirk, “it ain’t gonna be that way.”
The Corporal chuckled and led the group inside. He pointed at the soldier with the night-vision rifle. “Get topside now,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir.” The soldier nodded and ran off.
“Rest of you fan out, we need keys,” Dawson said. “And keep a watch out for zombies, those fuckers like to hide.”
The group spread out, looking around for keys to the lot full of vehicles. After several minutes, Moss popped up from a cubicle.
“I think we’re in business!” he called.
Dawson joined him and saw the Private fiddling with a large lockbox attached to the wall. When he opened it up, there were hundreds of keys, all arranged by parking lot number.
“Good work, Moss,” the Corporal said, and pulled out his walkie talkie. “Sarge, you copy?” he asked.
After a short pause, Copeland came back, “Beginning to think you were going AWOL there, Corporal.”
Dawson barked a laugh. “And leave all the glory of completing this suicide mission to you, Sarge? Never.”
“What’s your status?” the Sergeant asked, chuckling.
Dawson watched his soldiers work. “Dealership secured, keys located.”
“How long until you can get me some distractions?” Copeland asked.
The Corporal approached one of the mechanics. “Once we pop the hoods, how long to get those sensors fixed?” he asked.
“Two minutes, tops,” the mechanic replied.
Dawson lifted the radio to his l
ips. “We can have a party favor making noise in ten,” he said. “Where do you want us to start?”
“Get me a pair five blocks south of each bridge,” Copeland replied. “Those snipers are pulling their weight, so I want to pull the ones directly south of us away.”
The Corporal nodded. “Understood,” he replied. “From there, we’ll spread ‘em out.”
“I’ll let you know if we need to adjust the plan,” the Sergeant assured him. “Copeland out.”
Dawson clipped his radio back to his belt and whirled a hand above his head. “All right boys,” he said, “get you a vehicle and let’s roll.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mack and Moss hopped into a bright yellow sedan, rolling down the windows as the car started up. The mechanic slammed the hood down and came around to Mack on the driver’s side.
“Okay Mack, you’re good to go,” he said, leaning on the window. “When you get to your destination, take the keys with you, lock the door, arm the alarm, and give the car a good shove. That should pop it off for sixty seconds.”
The Private nodded. “Is that going to give the zombies enough time to get to it?” he asked.
“No, probably not,” the mechanic admitted, shaking his head. “Which is why you’re going to have to find some shelter and keep hitting the alarm until some show up.”
Moss rolled his eyes from the passenger seat. “You got some flares, too?” he drawled. “Might help them really notice where we are.”
Dawson approached the window, crossing his arms. “No, but if you don’t quit your bitching, I’m gonna have the mechanic here hook an alarm up to your ass and send you on a ten-mile run,” he snapped.
Moss’ sarcasm dropped quickly as the Corporal got his point across.
“And to confirm,” Mack cut in, putting up a hand, “we’re five blocks south of the surface street bridge.”
Dawson nodded. “Correct,” he confirmed. “Put it in an intersection a block off of the interstate, so that you capture the neighborhood crowd. Follow the mechanic’s instructions, then haul ass back here, because we got a lot more cars to spread out.”
Both privates replied with a firm, “Yes, sir,” and Mack put the car into gear, punching the gas. They turned onto the frontage road before crossing underneath the interstate and heading up the opposite side.
“Why not take the interstate?” Moss asked, brow furrowing.
Mack shook his head. “Because if we run into trouble, we won’t be able to hit a side road,” he explained.
“Makes sense,” his companion agreed.
They drove up a few more blocks before stopping. A horde of creatures milled about on the frontage road and on the interstate just above it, slowly making their way towards the bridge. The Privates listened closely and they could hear the faint sounds of gunfire in the distance. It wasn’t rapid, just steady with a shot popping off every couple of seconds.
“Those sniper boys are lighting them up,” Moss said.
Mack shook his head. “Problem is, they’re drawing quite the crowd,” he replied dryly. “We’re still a mile from the bridge.”
Moss shrugged as his partner turned down a side road, driving a couple blocks before turning north. They drove relatively slowly through the neighborhood, seeing the grass beginning to get tall. There were a few paths tracking through the yards where the foliage was stamped down.
Moss wrinkled his nose as he appraised the middle-class brick houses, decaying after a month of neglect. “If it wasn’t for the zombies, this would make for a nice town,” he said.
“Kinda sad to think that this scene is playing out in just about every single town in the country,” Mack agreed.
Moss swallowed hard. “Hell, the world,” he said.
They shook their heads simultaneously at the thought.
“I can’t imagine what those other countries are doing to handle this,” Mack said. “We have more guns than people in this country, and we still got our asses kicked. Not sure a bunch of civilians armed with knives and cricket bats are faring much better.”
Moss sighed. “So much for my European vacation.”
They headed up the side street, stopping in the middle of an intersection.
“Is this five blocks?” Moss asked.
Mack shrugged. “Hell if I know,” he replied, “but I can see the dead end up ahead.”
Moss struggled to count the number of cross streets between them and the end of the road, but the darkness made it difficult. “Well, it’s either four, five, or six,” he said.
“Or in my line of thinking,” Mack replied, “close enough.”
He made the turn back towards the interstate, stopping the car in the middle of the intersection. The two of them checked their surroundings and got out of the vehicle, doing an additional sweep of the area.
“Clear,” Moss said.
Mack nodded. “Same.”
His partner cocked his head. “You got the keys?”
Mack dangled them before pocketing them. “So where do you want to hide out?” he asked.
“Further away from the interstate, the better,” Moss replied.
The duo looked around and spotted a two-story house one down from a place on the corner. The front door was ajar, and Mack nodded towards it.
“They left the door open for us,” he said.
His friend scratched the back of his head. “Hope that’s all they left,” he quipped.
Mack shut the car door before fiddling around with the keys. He finally got the car locked and then paused. “You ready?” he asked.
“As much as I’m gonna be,” Moss admitted.
Mack took a deep breath and looked around one more time before giving the car a good shove. It didn’t take much, just his light touch, to set off the alarm. A loud horn bleated, echoing through the neighborhood, causing both soldiers to wince.
“Goddamn that’s loud,” Moss declared.
Mack waved at him. “Let’s get to the house!”
They rushed to the two-story building, seeing some of the bushes across the street start to jiggle. They raised their assault rifles as they approached the house, and Moss took point, heading for the front door as Mack covered his rear.
He pulled a flashlight, holding it above the barrel of his gun before stepping inside. As he cleared the threshold, he spotted movement coming from the back of the room at the mouth of the hallway. He immediately fired, clipping a zombie in the face.
“Keep your fire down!” Mack hissed. “We want the car to attract them, not us!”
Moss shook his head. “Relax, as long as we got the alarm, we’re-” Before he could finish his sentence, the alarm kicked off. “... Good. Shit.” He kept his flashlight up and quickly drew his knife, waiting in the living room.
With the silence, he could finally hear footsteps on the second floor of the house. Meanwhile, Mack pulled out the keys and pressed the alarm button.
“Anytime now, bud,” Moss urged.
His friend shook his head frantically. “I’m hitting it and nothing’s happening,” he replied.
“Might be too far away,” Moss said, swallowing hard.
“Shit,” Mack muttered. “Hang tight.” He stepped off of the front porch and started walking towards the car, hitting the alarm button the entire way. When he got to the edge of the yard, it finally went off. As it blared, he turned to retreat into the house, but there were a dozen zombies coming around the side towards him. “Moss!” he cried.
He took off towards the house, pulling out his assault rifle. It was dark, and he was twenty yards away, but he opened fire anyway. His three-round bursts tore through the zombies, hitting mostly torsos but hitting one zombie in the head.
The gunfire alerted Moss, who quickly dashed out and opened fire himself, ripping the zombies to shreds at close range. Mack tore for the door, and his partner nearly fired at him, at the last second realizing who it was and stopping just in time.
“Christ dude, you all right?” Mack cried.
The duo pulled their flashlights and moved through the house quickly. Moss headed up the stairs, and as he approached the top, he spotted two zombies in the hallway, caught in a baby gate that had been wedged across it. They moaned and reached for him, and he quickly put them down with two precise shots to the head.
As they slumped over the gate, the alarm outside stopped. He listened closely for noise, but heard none. He tapped on the hardwood floor to draw any others out, but nothing came. As he descended the staircase again, Mack was just heading out the door.
“Clear upstairs,” Moss reported.
His friend nodded. “Good deal,” he replied. “I’m gonna get another blast going.”
“We may need to hit the house next door,” Moss suggested. “Not that safe for you to keep going outside.”
Mack rolled his eyes. “What’s this me stuff?” he drawled. “You’re up next.”
Before his partner could answer, the alarm began to blare on its own, and they shared an excited look. Mack shut the front door, and they hurried over to the living room window to look outside.
A few zombies hung out around the vehicle, banging on the doors and windows in reaction to the noise. Eventually the alarm stopped, and the duo waited with bated breath for a ghoul to hit it again.
“Come on, come on,” Moss murmured, “you know you want what’s in there.”
A few seconds later, one of the zombies bonked into the driver’s side, setting off the alarm again. This enraged its brethren, and they all began to smack the car with vigor. More zombies emerged from the side streets, a ton of them coming from the north.
“What do you think, give it fifteen minutes to make sure it’s still working?” Mack asked.
Moss shook his head. “Hell no,” he replied, checking his weapons. “We need to get out of here before it really draws a crowd. Then we find a house close to the dealership and hold up for fifteen minutes.”
The two men shared a fist bump before heading towards the back door. They peered out at the smattering of zombies marching through the backyard. As they shambled past, Mack unlocked the sliding door and gently opened it. They silently crept across the back deck and hopped over the side, landing on the soft grass.
Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 17
